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"I'm so happy. 'Cause today I found my friends. They're in my head." --Nirvana, "Lithium"
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Sundial: Chapter 4 - Hannya


by Angrybee ::: 01.Mar.2004


"Shinomori!"

"Yes? What? Am I in danger? Is that it?"

"Shinomori..."

"Well, out with it." No matter how flippant I am to the voices in my head, I feel the panic rising as I swim towards consciousness.

"You are in danger. Grave danger."

"Danger of -what-? I'm always in danger. I'm a ninja. IT COMES WITH THE JOB! DANGER IS WRITTEN INTO THE CONTRACT!" I think I may have stopped breathing. I hope I haven't fallen asleep in the bath, again.

"Shinomori..."

"Oh, just get on with it. Instill fear and panic into my soul and then toss me into the waking world..."

"You are in danger, Shinomori. You are in danger of remembering. Too much pain. It comes. The pain will come with the memories of demons."

Demon. Fire. Sundial. Hannya.

Pain.

I wake up screaming.

What have I done? What have I done? I stare at my hands as the question echoes in my head, and the scent of burning flesh assaults my nostrils. Kami-sama, what have I done?

What...have...

I...

Oh. This is my room. Slowly, my hands fall into my lap. I'm sitting up on my futon, the blankets nowhere to be found. I've tossed them into the darkness.

At my side, are my sheathed kodachis.

Right beside me...and not tossed across the room.

Is this a good sign? Or a bad sign? I'm not exactly sure.

Bravo, Shinomori, you may have discovered a whole new category of madness. You're even insane in your sleep.

"Okashira..." The voice outside my door belongs to Okina. Old habits die hard, I suppose. After last night's meeting, everyone's started calling me 'Okashira'. Even Misao.

"Okina." I stand up, thankfully already dressed. I wonder if he heard me screaming. Probably. Unfortunately, I may be past caring. He won't ask me about it, so what does it matter?

"You were screaming," he says calmly.

Damn. I guess I was wrong. I hate it when people aren't predictable.

"Nevermind that," I reply, sliding the door open. Okina is kneeling beside the shoji, as if in deference to his leader. I wish he wouldn't do that, but what can I do? Such habits are instilled in him as deeply as his wish to protect the Aoiya. "Did you find out anything?"

"There are twenty-three people living at the apothecary compound currently. The kid, Gouko, should be returning from an errand to Hachinisasareru headquarters any day. As far as I can tell, he's Tojiro's second in command now. Apparently, after several of his older brothers died, he became motivated to quickly move through the Hachinisasareru ranks, and should now be next in line to become Okashira. As for Tojiro, he's made plans to return to their northern headquarters as soon as Gouko gets back, so we'll have to act fast."

I nod. I have only an inkling about how Okina gathered this information, but I'm certain it involved the old man putting himself in a great deal of danger.

"Good job," I say, "Go get some sleep."

He gives me a look, a look which tells me that he wants to go back to the previous subject of me screaming for no apparent reason. Okina knows something, maybe he even knows the depths of my turmoil. He sees me as a son, I know he does. Things would have been so different if...

He stands, and I can almost hear his bones creak. Okina isn't getting any younger. But, I hate to think of him as old, even if his nickname implies it. I tell myself that he is still a formidable ninja, and that I would be remiss to exclude him from this, no matter how much I want to do so.

"Aoshi, this is a good plan. Don't worry."

Okina disappears down the hallway towards his room.

It's good information, but it still doesn't explain why the Hachinisasareru are after the Oniwabanshuu, and me in particular. What could they possibly gain by my death? And, if they want to kill me, why attack Okon and Omasu? It eliminates the element of surprise. If you want someone dead, you kill them. You don't warn them about it ahead of time unless you have some ulterior motive.

What is the motive? Why would they do this?

Deciding to go to the practice dojo to clear my mind a bit, I step into the hallway.

Hannya appears from nowhere, just as he was oft prone to do while alive. He's quite the master of unshinjutsu, the art of being invisible. He'd have to be, because otherwise a man in an oni mask wearing purple and red stripes sticks out more egregiously than Shishio Makoto dolled up as a geisha.

Actual steam wafts out of the nostril holes of his mask. Spooky, right? Well, it's a trick. When he was alive, that smoke contained a gas which would cause his opponents to become lethargic and confused. But, since he is dead, the effect is merely cosmetic.

Hannya steps in front of me and raises his hand to stop my progress. "Where is it?"

Oh god. He knows.

"It isn't important," I say, trying to sound as utterly convincing as possible. "It is just a sundial, Hannya. It has no meaning, and no purpose other than the ability to tell time when it isn't cloudy."

Now the steam is coming out of his mask's ears, too. "WHERE IS IT?"

"Calm down."

"WHERE?"

I can't believe he's yelling at me. "It doesn't matter. I'm still the Okashira, with or without the sundial."

"You've lost it?" He grabs me by my shoulders. I can actually feel his ghostly fingers digging through the material of my trenchcoat into my flesh. It reminds me of rubbing against a cold dead eel. "Do you realize what you've done? Don't you understand?"

"I.." I don't know what to say. I've only ever -really- argued with Hannya once before. The surrealness of the experience ties my tongue. If he were alive, I'd throw him off and point my kodachi at his throat until he became rational.

I smell fire.

Hannya lets go of me. I wish I could read his expression, his body language gives too little of a clue as to his state of mind.

"Sometimes, I really hate you, Shinomori Aoshi," Hannya says, disappearing through application of his masterful arts. "No. That's not true. I hate the demons which Fate decreed we would become."

Demons.

I look at my hands, half expecting them to be covered in soot, for some unknown reason.

"Hannya?"

But, it is too late. He's already gone. Will he ever forgive me? Can he forgive me? Why should he?

How many times can I destroy one man's life?

Oh, Hannya, I'm so sorry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It wasn't long after I left the Temple of the Five Clouds with Okashira Makimachi Iwayama that I met Hannya. Perhaps no more than a year or two. The Okashira and I had been traveling back to the Temple to pay our respects. The Abbot had died of old age while sitting in meditation.

The old guy sure did like to meditate. Must be a peaceful way to go, don't you think?

Better than any of the ways I've considered, I'm sure.

We stopped in the town below the mountains on our journey back. Makimachi-san turned me loose on the streets with a pocketful of change. He told me to go enjoy myself. I suppose he thought I'd buy candy or something. But, I was too serious of a child. I didn't want sweets or toys. I didn't want much of anything but to return to Oniwabanshuu headquarters and to continue training. I had to become the strongest. I had no time for frivolity.

So, I wandered the streets, looking for something to buy to prove to the Okashira that I had, indeed, gone and enjoyed myself.

I thought I would buy a book. Machimaki-san would probably frown at that, but at least it would be enjoyable. But, none of the interesting books or scrolls were even remotely affordable to me. So, I continued to wander, unaware that I'd left the safer section of the city, and ambled into a questionable district.

Then, I was pulled from my thoughts of pleasing the Okashira by a skirmish in front of a third-rate restaurant. Three large men were shoving a boy several years older than myself. They'd grab him by his shoulders and shake him, yelling epithet after epithet, then push him towards the next man to repeat the process.

"Get out of here, you demon!"

"You bring bad luck, everywhere you go! Don't come around here!"

"We won't feed you, we don't want demons here..."

"Get lost! Don't ever come back!"

"Demon! Evil demon!"

They kicked him until he fell, and he landed right in front of my feet. I didn't really know what to do. The Okashira told me not to ever get involved in fights which didn't concern me. And I certainly couldn't take on three large men all by myself, not at that early stage of my training, anyway.

I looked down at the teenager. Except for his eyes, his face was completely covered with a system of rags and bandages. At first, I thought he maybe had some sort of disease. But, it didn't seem likely. Those villagers probably wouldn't have even touched him if that were the case.

He opened his eyes and looked up at me with startling recognition. It was like he knew everything about me before we had ever even met. Like he could see into my mind.

I can't recall having ever been afraid before, never in my life, until that moment.

I guess a demon always knows when he meets another demon.

And he's terrified of what he sees looking back at him.

I bent down, suddenly mesmerized by the young man. He didn't appear to be wounded too badly, just stunned, winded. As I assessed the damage, the sunlight glinted off of the sundial hanging from my neck. It must have flashed in his eyes, because the next thing I knew, the boy had grabbed the sundial, his hand as quick as lightning, and pulled me close using the cord.

"This yours?"

"Aa," I replied, attempting to gently pry it from his hands. "It is."

"Time takes all but memories." He read the inscription and then let go of the sundial. Snorting slightly, the youth turned on his side and coughed a bit. "Do you think that would be a blessing, or a threat?"

I hadn't really thought about it before. I'd had that sundial as long as I could remember. The monks said they'd found it with me in the woods. So, I merely shrugged.

The boy sat up. I noticed for the first time how dirty he was, his clothes and hands encrusted with mud. He wore peasant pants that might have once been dark blue, and a rag of a shirt that had been patched so many times it didn't even have a single color anymore.

I'd never known anyone so poor that could actually read. The boy definitely piqued my interest, but apparently not as much as I piqued his.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Aoshi. Shinomori Aoshi."

"Hmmmmm." Turning his head to make certain that the thugs which had been beating him had left, the teenager in the rag masks said, "Interesting name...for a demon."

I tried not to choke on my own tongue at that statement. Mustering all of my will, I spit out a return question. "And yours?"

He looked at me as if I had just asked him to murder an infant in cold blood. "Hannya."

I flinched. Hannya. A female demon of envy, jealousy, and retribution. Very odd name for a boy.

Curiosity overtook me. Well, I was only eight or nine years old, what do you expect? "What happened to your face, Hannya?"

"Fire."

"I'm sorry."

Hannya snorted as he stood up and dusted himself off. "Don't be sorry for me. Be sorry for the poor fool who lit it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It turned out that Hannya had been living on the streets since he was a child. From what I understand, his mother died giving birth, and his remaining family died in the same fire that took Hannya's face. No one wanted him, none of his relatives, none of the family friends. So, he eked out an existence on what he could steal and beg. He lived like a dog, he told me, chased though the streets by fearful villagers.

I took Hannya back to the inn to get cleaned up, and to meet the Okashira. If anyone would know how to help, it would be Makimachi-san. And, of course, he did. Our Okashira could always sense discarded potential, I suppose. So, he made an offer to Hannya. A man without a face sticks out in a crowd, so why not learn to be invisible? Why not become a master of unshinjutsu?

The Okashira offered Hannya a chance to live life in peace.

"The lives of men aren't contests of beauty," Makimachi-san said, "A man shows his worth by what he can do, by his strength and spirit. The circumstances of a man's birth or life are of no consequence to us. Join the Oniwabanshuu, and we will value you for who you are, and what you make of yourself, Hannya-chan."

Hannya looked at me for a long time, just stared at me with an expression I couldn't begin to describe. Was he sad? Angry? Delighted? Relieved? To this day, I still don't know.

But, he agreed to join, nonetheless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hannya trained in the shinobi arts as fiercely as I trained in kempo and swordsmanship. And then, as an application of what we had mastered, the Okashira turned us around and had us teach each other. I taught Hannya kempo, and Hannya taught me to go unseen.

In the process we each became the other's shadow.

But, the more I got to know Hannya, the more he surprised me. At times he could be cold, aloof with his thoughts, a perfectionist in his studies, and surpassingly cruel in his assessment of the world. Hannya adored the family he'd gained in the Oniwabanshuu, but he trusted no one outside of the clan. And I mean -no one-. The world beyond had judged him a demon, and in return, he'd decided that everyone else wasn't even worth his spit.

But then, there was a whole other side to Hannya. It was something you couldn't discern after meeting the man just once or twice. Beyond his unfathomable loyalty to the Oniwabanshuu, Hannya just wanted to be a normal person. He wanted to laugh, to enjoy life, to become just another person living in this world.

Not a demon. Just a man.

I very much liked the thought that someone the world had rejected could re-integrate itself into that same world.

And I very much liked Hannya.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I was still quite young when Makimachi-san brought Misao-chan to the Oniwabanshuu. Her mother was dying of disease, and the child could not be left alone.

At the time, we didn't realize that the Okashira was dying of the same disease. He hid it well for some time. But then, slowly, more and more of his work would be passed to Hannya, myself, or Okina. Eventually, he was forced to reveal the situation, but the three of us kept the secret as we attempted to plan for the future.

But, I digress.

Misao-chan came to us.

And Hannya found his life's purpose.

I remember the first time they met. Misao was toddling around the courtyard, chasing a butterfly with two bowls, trying to catch it. Hannya came down for breakfast, and as soon as she saw him, she ran up to him.

"You've got a mask, mister!"

Hannya, still a bit sleepy, looked down at the girl in confusion. Most children ran -away- from him, I suppose.

Hannya tilted his head to one side, blinked, and finally managed to say, "Yes, I do."

"I made a mask once out of some paper. It was supposed to be a cat, but it didn't look like a cat at all. Yours is better, though. Why do you have it?"

From my vantage point on the engawa where I was drinking tea, I watched Hannya crouch down, bringing himself to Misao's level. His eyes... I'd never seen him so upset. How do you explain such things to such an innocent little girl?

"There was a fire," Hannya said quietly, watching little Misao's feet, "And part of my face fell off."

Misao-chan's face scrunched up, her bottom lip pouting out a bit. I thought she might cry, or scream, or run away. But, instead, she just said, "One of my teeth fell out, once. And my eyelashes fall out all the time. So, I guess parts of my face have fallen off, too." Misao shifted her weight as her face brightened, "I'm Misao! What's your name?"

"Hannya."

"Do you want to see my butterfly, Hannya-san?" Misao leaned forward, the two bowls between her hands clenched tightly together to prevent escape. "They start out as caterpillars, you know? But, all the time they really have a pretty butterfly hidden inside. I wish people could turn into butterflies."

Misao lifted one of her bowls carefully, exposing a little yellow butterfly resting on the inside. Its wings moved apart, once, twice, and then it took to the air. The fluttering creature circled Misao's head and came to an abrupt landing on the nose of Hannya's mask.

They both broke out laughing, though probably not for the same reason. Misao's tinkling giggle mixed so harmoniously with Hannya's deeper chuckle. They were two notes which forming a perfect chorus.

Later, Hannya came and sat down beside me as Misao tried, unsuccessfully, to recapture her prey.

"The Okashira's daughter," I explained.

"Mmm," Hannya mused, his eyes never leaving the girl playing in the yard, "I see."

"What do you think?"

Hannya leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "I think she's the most amazing human I've ever met."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The problems began when the old Okashira was on his deathbed.

Okashira Makimachi had prepared Nenji (Okina) to take his place. However, Nenji-san had married Aoki earlier in the year, and wished to be able to stay close to his new wife. They had decided to open a restaurant in Kyoto to be a front for Oniwabanshuu activities.

So, that left the Okashira with only two reasonable choices. Hannya, and myself.

But, Hannya didn't want to be Okashira. What he did want, however, was Misao.

"She can't stay here forever, Aoshi," Hannya said as we sat together outside the Okashira's room, waiting to be called inside. The night, cool and crisp, enveloped our conversation in shadow. "She needs to be a normal girl, with normal friends, and live a normal life. If she stays here, she's going to end up dying young, or worse, turn into a demon like you or I."

"What are you saying, Hannya?"

"Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday, after I've found a woman who can be a mother to Misao..."

This was Hannya's dream, his dream of becoming a normal man. He'd get married, open a small dojo, and raise Misao like a daughter. His dojo would secretly bring in and train potential recruits for the Oniwabanshuu. And Misao would grow up away from the danger of the Oniwabanshuu's enemies.

How could I deny a man his dreams?

So, I swore. I swore on my sundial that I would become the best Okashira I could, making it possible to expand the clan enough that Hannya's dream would become a necessity. And Hannya swore on that same copper sundial that he would forever protect Misao, and that he would do everything in his power to give her the best life he could.

It was our pact. Our promise not only to the Oniwabanshuu and Misao, but to each other. It was our sworn oath to help each other achieve the goals we had set for ourselves.

And the sundial was our witness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I forbid it, Hannya, I positively forbid it."

Hannya, his arms crossed, tapped his fingers on the striped sleeve of his uniform, seething in anger. We'd been arguing in my office for almost an hour, but probably only about ten minutes of that was actual conversation. The rest of the time, we just glared at each other.

I'd never had a disagreement with Hannya before, and it was taking every drop of my restraint not to throw him out of the room. But, I knew if I did, he'd march down the hall, throw Misao over his shoulder, and leave. I'd have to fight him, and probably kill him, to get him to stop.

"You're being unreasonable. Minkoto is a very fine woman. Just because the circumstances have landed her where she is, you've judged her as unfitting...."

My hand slammed down on my desk, causing the papers piled upon it to jump as if in surprise. "She's a whore, Hannya. You can not marry a prostitute."

"And why not?" Hannya uncrossed his arms and leaned against the back of the chair opposite my desk, "Aoki-san was once such a woman, before she married Nenji. What is your problem? You're usually so understanding of the tragic situations in which people sometimes find themselves."

I wanted to tear out my own hair. I wanted to grab Hannya by his shoulders and shake him until he'd find reason. No. I wanted to find that whore, Minkoto, and strangle her. Her, marry Hannya. I knew the scheming little wench had thought this up merely so Hannya would buy out her contract and free her from her profession. I'd met her several times through Hannya's attempts to have me bedded by some of her cohorts. She wasn't a sad case. No. She was a sniveling little social climber intent on using people for money or contacts. Frankly, I found her repulsive.

"Nenji didn't -pay- Aoki-san to love him, Hannya. She'd already escaped that life long before they met."

Hannya's hands had clenched so tightly around the back of the chair that pieces were beginning to splinter away. "It doesn't -matter-. She'll be a good mother for Misao."

"For how long, Hannya? A year? A month? She'll leave you, and you know it."

"Why do you think that?" I'd never seen so much anger in his eyes before, churning and red, as if they actually contained hell, "Do you think I'm unable to be loved just because of my face? Of all people, I thought you would be the last to treat me that way."

"No, Hannya." I turned around, staring out the window at the snow falling in the courtyard below. "I've always thought of you as a brother. And, I just don't want to see my brother get hurt."

I heard the chair snap into pieces under Hannya's grip.

I thought he would say something to that, or at least throw a piece of the chair at me. But, when I turned back around, Hannya had disappeared. The only trace of his existence was a demolished wooden chair.

And the lingering scent of fire.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I found him later sitting in Misao's room, watching her sleep. She'd had a fever all week, nothing life-threatening, but one of those childhood illnesses which all normal, otherwise healthy, kids endure.

Personally, I've never been sick a day in my life.

He swept a compress of cool water over her forehead and cheeks, wiping away a thin sheen of sweat. We would have all taken turns caring for Misao, but Hannya said there was no use in everyone catching what she had contracted.

I think mostly, just as always, taking care of Misao made him feel like he was doing something normal, and human.

"How is she?"

I watched Hannya's wiry back as he put the rag aside and adjusted Misao's covers. "She's going to be alright. The fever is going down now. Isn't that right, chibi-kochou?" Misao murmured a half-answer in her fitful sleep. Slipping his large hand underneath her little one, Hannya nodded as if he understood whatever she said.

"Hannya," I began, leaning against the wall for support. "About before... The harsh things I said..."

"It's alright," he replied quietly, "You're just looking out for me. And for Misao, too. There's no need to apologize, because there is nothing which needs to be forgiven."

"Are you going to marry Minkoto?"

Hannya's shoulders sunk. "No."

"You don't love her, then?"

Hannya chuckled and shook his head. With his laughter, I finally understood. He could bed a thousand women, but there would only ever be one girl he trusted with his demon heart.

And she was holding his hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After that, things only got worse for the Oniwabanshuu. The Aoiya opened, but despite its success, it couldn't support us all. With the various wars having come to a close at the dawning of the Meiji era, the need for specialized warriors such as Beshimi, Hyotokko, Shikijo, Hannya, and I grew faint.

We went through some hard times, all of us scraping together what we could to keep our strange family going.

The government offered me a fairly reasonable position, but no matter how I haggled, I couldn't get work for my friends. Sometimes, I think that the Meiji government is run by the most inept and ridiculously blind bunch of old fools imaginable.

So, we five left. I know how deeply it hurt them all to leave Misao-chan and the others behind. But, Hannya became downright distraught. His dream of taking Misao away and the two of them living as normally as possible seemed to be getting further and further from realization.

And I felt horrible. I'd let him down. Because of my mismanagement of the Oniwabanshuu, I'd never been able to uphold my end of our pact.

One night, while Hannya was out drinking, my other three comrades and I looked over a few possibilities for work. We'd had several offers, most notably from a shady character named "Kanryuu".

"I don't like him," Hyotokko declared, sprawled out on the floor of the inn room we were all sharing, "He's kinda creepy, ya know?"

"Geez," Beshimi replied, "If Hyo doesn't like him, he's got to be rotten. Hyo-kun likes everyone."

Hyotokko protested. "Huh? That's not true."

"Name someone you don't like, then."

"Uuhhhh. Ummmm. Uhhh..."

Shikijo had been sitting in the window, smoking a pipe and watching the stars. "He's got the most money to spare, though."

Quite a perplexing comment coming from Shikijo. I looked up from the papers. "I never knew you were concerned with getting rich, Shikijo."

"I'm not."

"Then why do you care?"

Shikijo took a deep drag on his pipe and exhaled smoke into the night. "Hannya."

Hyotokko stopped trying to figure out who he didn't like and turned over on his stomach to look at Shikijo. "What about Hannya?" "If he had that kind of money, he could go back and start his dojo. Kanryuu has enough to make Hannya a rich man. If we took the job..."

If we took the job and gave all the money to Hannya, he could go back. He easily open his school, and have enough left over to raise Misao. She'd never want for anything. And when the day came for her to be married, she'd have quite a sizeable dowry.

And that is exactly what we all decided to do.

At the end of the job, we'd send Hannya home with the earnings.

Unfortunately, we never planned on Himura Battousai.

Fate, I suppose, abhors demons.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Aoshi-sama?"

I blink. Where the hell am I, now? I've lost track of time again. Aoshi-sama? Misao calls me Aoshi-sama.

Misao. If only I'd been able to protect Hannya, she'd be somewhere else right now. She'd be living a normal life, as a normal young woman, with dozens of suitors quaking in Hannya's shadow as they struggled for Misao's attention.

Wouldn't she?

But, I wonder, would she still be Misao, or would she be someone else entirely different?

"Aoshi-sama?"

Oh, I appear to be standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The sun is up now, and little streaks of light are playing with the steam coming off of a pot of boiling water. Misao has on Omasu's apron. It's a bit big for her, so one of the straps has fallen around her upper arm, giving Misao a slightly disheveled look. But, then, she always looks disheveled in the morning, with her hair down and her yukata wrinkled from sleep.

That's when I notice Hannya standing in the corner glaring at me. He says nothing. I guess we're not on speaking terms.

Misao tries again. "Aoshi-sama, did you want something?"

"Tea." Do I want tea? I said that I wanted tea, so I must actually want it, right?

I'm so confused. Where the hell have I been for the past six hours? All I know is that I smell of pine trees and my throat hurts.

"Oh, of course," Misao replies. She busies herself getting out the implements to concoct the requested beverage. "I was just making breakfast for everyone. Though, I think Jiya is going to sleep in a bit after last night. I'm so glad he got back alright..."

Misao chatters on and on while she bustles about the room. Who knows why she feels it necessary to talk so incessantly. And yet, Misao's vociferous nature has never bothered me. There is something so wonderfully innocent about it, something so delightfully soothing.

"She couldn't keep a grudge, even if she wanted..." Hannya murmurs from the corner. No longer staring at me, he's now intently watching Misao. The sadness in his voice lingers in the room like smoke, enveloping me in a hopeless sinking feeling. Drowning never felt this suffocating. "How is it that she's forgiven us all? We left her. We abandoned her. How is it that, no matter what we do, she always welcomes us with open arms? Oh how we loved her, all of us did. But in the end, I suppose, she was the one who kept us human. She was the one who, at the end of the day, changed us from warrior demons back into simple men. Why couldn't she have been a cruel and heartless little girl? Then I could have hated her. Then it would have never hurt so much to have been unable to protect her from the world. It wouldn't hurt so much to leave her behind."

What is this at the back of my throat? Is someone strangling me? Fingers digging into my flesh, rending skin from muscle, muscle from bone, stripping away the outer vestments of what makes Shinomori Aoshi until there is nothing left. Because there is nothing at the core. Just a void. This body is just a suit, animated by evil, a puppet for demons who wanted to play with the world.

I know what Hannya is saying.

He's saying that he'll never forgive me.

For what I've done to him...to Misao...to everyone...

He'll never forgive me.

He hates me. He's always hated me.

"Alright, Aoshi-sama, here's your tea!"

Misao smiles as she turns around. A smile which drops immediately from her face, followed by the teacup. I lunge forward, hand outstretched and catch it, inches from the floor. It's a surprising save. Well, I'm surprised, at least.

As I stand, Misao backs away a bit. Is she afraid of me? Misao has never been afraid of me. Why is she looking at me like I am going to hurt her?

"What's wrong, Misao?"

"I..." Misao scoots forward again. Tentatively, she sticks out her hand and takes ahold of the edge of my trenchcoat's collar, inspecting it. "Oh, Aoshi-sama. I'm so sorry. When I turned around you...well, in the light you..."

"Aa?"

"I must still be half asleep," Misao says, the fear dropping from her face to replaced with an ever-genki smile. "Because you looked a bit like Hannya. But, that's just incredibly silly, right? It's just that...well...you had your hands over your face and..." Misao turns back around to stir whatever it is she is making for breakfast. "I don't know why that would frighten me. Silly Misao. Seeing ghosts again."

"Again?" What? What is she talking about? Kami-sama, I've infected Misao. It's contagious.

But, Misao doesn't...seem insane.

Well, no more or less than usual, anyway.

"Oh, didn't I ever tell you? Hannya. I saw him before you came back with Himura. After I was injured, he said I needed to keep fighting, because you would be coming home. So, I did. I don't know how, but I did. It was almost like he lent me his strength... But, I guess, it was probably just that I was delirious from the pain."

I look around in an attempt to pinpoint Hannya, to get some sort sense of what he's thinking about this. But, of course, he's gone.

"Do you think there really are ghosts, Aoshi-sama? Helpful ones like that? Do you think I really saw Hannya that time?"

What am I supposed to tell her? Yes, Misao, there are ghosts. I see them every day. Currently, in fact, I think Hannya is trying to get me to commit suicide. It's nice, though, that he came to help you out. Maybe I'll do the same after I'm gone. Yes, after I'm dead, I'll probably haunt you, following you around like a lost puppy, just to hear your chatter. Just to watch you forgive everyone who ever hurt you, including me. How can you forgive me? Why don't you hate me yet? Why won't you give up and just hate me?

Hannya! Why won't you...

"Aoshi-sama?"

"Does it matter, Misao?" I look at the tea in my cup, watching it ripple as my hand shakes. I've completely lost control. Without the sundial, I just can't keep myself together. "Does it matter if ghosts really exist? If you saw Hannya, and you think he helped you...then...that's all that matters."

"Mou, I guess you're right," Misao says with a shrug. She spoons large portions of rice into two bowls, which she places on a tray. "Okay. After I get Okon and Omasu fed and into the carriage, I'll have Kuro and Shiro meet us out front. Right, Okashira?"

Misao winks at me and practically skips out the door with the tray.

She always bounces back from everything.

I'm left alone in the kitchen with a trembling teacup. The room suddenly grows darker, as if outside a cloud has passed in front of the sun.

I've lost control of everything. How am I supposed to fight the Hachinisasareru like this? Why does it feel like my entire world is being ripped away?

What the hell is wrong with me?

"At least you saved the teacup from shattering."

Hannya. In a corner. His eyes are glowing red. Fire. I can smell smoke, pungent and deadly, trying to surround me. Trying to choke me. I should have been the one. My life...not his...

I'm the demon. Not him. He was never supposed to be...

"Hannya..." Is it my voice? Is it his? The world is dissolving. Pinpricks of light are stinging my eyes. The kitchen becomes a fire. Blazingly hot, consuming my flesh, destroying my mind. Burn, Shinomori, burn. This is the fire you deserve.

But, these voices...

Am I speaking? Who is here?

"I was so glad you didn't remember. I just didn't want you to remember."

"Time takes all but memories."

"No, Hannya, it took yours."

"Take me with you. Don't leave me again. Please don't leave me again..."

"I can't."

"Orukei-chan, I don't want to be alone."

"You aren't."

Someone's hand strokes my cheek, soft and fond. Is this goodbye? No. Not yet. I'm not ready yet.

Will he ever forgive me?

"I just wanted..."

That is why he keeps leaving.

"...to save Misao's smile..."

Because he always hated me.

"...Since I was never able to save yours."

The truth is...

The truth must be...

He should have killed me when he had the chance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I watch as Misao carefully helps Okon into the carriage. Omasu is already inside, the welt on her face covered by a delicate scarf Misao found somewhere in the storeroom. Since last night, the plan has been altered somewhat. After completing their end of the mission, Okon and Omasu won't return to the Aoiya.

But, I don't think they'll mind one bit.

"Okay, you two," Misao says, handing their suitcases up to the driver. "Be careful."

"Mou," Okon says, grabbing a small mirror out of Omasu's hands so she can check her hair, "We have the easiest part. You should let us come with you, Misao-chan. I can throw shuriken just as good with my left hand as my right."

Omasu leans over Okon's lap, "You're the one who needs to be careful, Misao. Those Hachinisasareru are tricky, and they don't mind hurting women."

Misao waves her hand dismissively, always smiling, as if she wasn't the least bit worried about the fight ahead. "I'll put the hurt on them. Big time. Just you wait. Revenge is a dish best served with genki flare."

Misao closes the door before anyone can protest.

As the carriage rolls off, I survey my troops. Misao is wearing Omasu's day kimono. I guess she doesn't own one. I'm in a western suit. Kuro and Shiro have their ninja uniforms, and are carrying ours in a bundle.

They step forward like two soldiers. "We're ready, Okashira."

"Very well. You have your orders."

Kuro flashes me a grin and Shiro chuckles as they leap up to the top of the Aoiya, taking off across town by leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

Twenty minutes ago, I woke up on the floor of the kitchen.

Hannya was nowhere to be found.

And, since that time, I haven't particularly felt like myself.

In fact, I haven't really felt anything at all.

"Well," Misao says, looking up at the Aoiya, where Kuro and Shiro disappeared, "Since Jiya is staying here, that just leaves us."

I can feel my kodachis strapped to my back. Yes. That is the one thing I can definitely feel. "Let's go, Misao."

The day is cool, shaded by clouds which seem to float ever eastward on the staccato breeze. All life, from trees to weeds, from bamboo to finest moss, watches as we pass. How interesting we humans must be to those flora and fauna not acquainted with our troubles.

As we march towards vengeance.

It is a very fine day to learn that you do not threaten the Oniwabanshuu.

You do not threaten Hannya's family.

Ever.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Good afternoon, Shinomori-san!"

It's the same clerk from yesterday. Little toad. I wonder if he knows. I want to pry those glasses off his face, break off the earpieces, and stab them into his eyes. Repeatedly.

"Good afternoon," I say genially, bowing as Misao scuffles in behind me. She's having a hard time walking in the wooden geta. But, I don't think the clerk will notice. His eyes are on me. Oh yes, he definitely knows.

"Shall I fetch Tojiro-san for you, Shinomori-san?"

"No, we're just here to pick up some items for Okon and Omasu. Some medicines and some poultices..." And to bring down your utter downfall, you no-good, sniveling, traitorous... I'll scalp you, and your entire clan, before this day is through. I'll rend you limb from limb and leave you begging to die. No, no, Shinomori. You must concentrate. Execute the plan. Stick to the plan.

Misao quietly heads to the end of the shop containing the shelves of legitimate pharmaceuticals. I breathe in the musty scent of decades of dust and mold. The Hachinisasareru apothecary contains none of the friendly familiarity which it held just yesterday. No, today, I'd rather see the entire place burn.

"Your name is Nabuki, isn't it?" I approach the counter, my frame blocking the kid's view of Misao. Be charming, Shinomori. You have it in you. Just...act like Hiko.

The clerk, Nabuki, nods.

"Well, Nabuki-kun, I'm very interested in snakes." I lean forward, careful not to glimpse at Misao out of the corner of my eye. I catch his gaze, and hold it without mercy. "Extremely poisonous snakes. Would you have any such snakes here in your shop? Or, perhaps, in the back rooms?"

The kid swallows hard. Alright, maybe that wasn't exactly charming. Maybe you -do- actually need sake to be as suave as Hiko Seijuro, Or, perhaps an ego the size of Hokkaido. Either way, causing intense fear will have to suffice as a replacement.

Nonetheless, I have his attention, and that is all I need.

"Uh. Yeah. Ssssure, Shinomori-san. I have some right here, under the counter. Just a second..."

Nabuki disappears underneath the counter, and I take the chance to look over at Misao. Like lightning, tiny white triangular packets appear at her fingertips as if from nowhere. She flips them behind bottles of ginseng extract, beneath boxes of dried mushrooms, between packets of medical teas. Just like her kunai, every single packet of opium hits its mark.

She's amazing with slight of hand. An incredible thief. But, today she's not stealing. No, instead she's leaving the Hachinisasareru a little gift.

Maybe she's not the best warrior. But, I have to admit, she's becoming a better ninja every day.

"Here you go, Shinomori-san. These little ones..." Nabuki appears from beneath the counter, holding a small wooden box, "Are from Australia. As poisonous as you get."

"The most poisonous?"

"Yup. The most poisonous ones we have. One bite will paralyze a man within five minutes, and kill him within the hour." He undoes the latch and slides back the top, showing me the foot long black snake coiled up inside.

Such a small thing.

Who would have known it could be so deadly?

"You have to wonder," I say, peering at the snake, "Why some snakes are poisonous, and some aren't."

Nabuki chuckles and shrugs, good-naturedly. I bite the inside of my cheek to check the impulse to pick up the box and throw the snake at him.

"Nature does make it hard to tell, sometimes, which creatures are our friends, and which ones will do us harm. Don't you think so, Nabuki-kun?"

"Y-y-yes, I guess you're right." He snaps the lid closed on the box. I think he's getting the idea now. With immense effort on my part, I attempt a reassuring smile.

It literally makes my face hurt.

"Do you want the snake, Shinomori-san?"

"Yes. I'll take it." I hear Misao's shuffling footsteps behind me. She steps up to the counter, her arms full of junk she's lifted from the shelves. She lets it all spill out onto the counter. "And all this, as well. Have Tojiro-san send me the bill at the Aoiya, as usual."

"Certainly."

Minutes later, Misao and I leave the Tojiro Apothecary, and the attached Hachinisasareru headquarters. We walk westward, towards the Aoiya, for several blocks, until we are certain we aren't being followed.

Then we turn down the agreed upon alleyway. Misao sets down her packages from the Apothecary, and picks up the one left behind by Kuro and Shiro.

"I can't believe you actually bought the snake," Misao says, handing me my uniform and trenchcoat. She ducks into a forgotten doorway of some extinct futon shop. "Are you going to keep it?"

Behind a bin of trash, I peel off the western suit, and remove my kodachis from my back. Keep the snake? I hadn't really thought about it. "Maybe."

Omasu's kimono comes flying out of the doorway, followed by the geta. They thunk against the far wall and come to a clattering stop on the stone ground below.

"So far, so good, right Okashira?"

Misao emerges wearing her uniform just as I slide my trenchcoat over my shoulders. My kodachis now hang by my side. My sundial is...

Well, you know where it is.

"I hate this part," Misao says, climbing up to the roof of the building with the ease of a monkey swinging through the jungle. "The waiting is always the worst. Don't you think so, Okashira?"

"Aa."

I climb up after Misao. In the shadows, we make our way back towards Hachinisasareru headquarters.

Right now, Kuro and Shiro are hiding on the other side of the building.

Right now, Okon is wailing miserably at police headquarters, spinning a tale of how she and her sister were abused and enslaved by terrible opium dealers. And Omasu is dabbing gently at the tears in the corner of her black eye, bringing the police's attention to the giant welt on the side of her face. Oh those opium dealers, they would say, their front is this little apothecary on the poor side of town. They just came to tell the police before leaving the city...so no one else would get hurt. Such good citizens, Okon and Omasu.

Right now, Nabuki is running through Hachinisasareru headquarters, looking for his Okashira, needing desperately to relate the news of the terrifying visit he just had with Shinomori Aoshi.

Right now, Misao and I will take our places, and wait.

And right now, at this very moment, Hannya's voice echoes in my head.

"At least you saved the teacup from shattering."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sun travels across the sky with cruel precision. I lay on my stomach on the rooftop of the building across from Hachinisasareru headquarters, watching the entrance. Two hours, and there has yet to be any movement. Tojiro must still be deliberating about whether or not I am on to him.

Misao, Kuro, and Shiro are nearby, laying in wait on buildings not far from my position.

Minutes pass.

Waiting was never hard for me. Not like it is for Misao. My mind goes blank, focused solely on my mission. There is no nervousness, no apprehension.

I'm not like Himura. I don't grieve every man I ever killed. Just the ones I killed senselessly. Just the ones I slaughtered to satisfy my sick need to prove something for my dead friends.

I'm not some pacifist rurouni out on a mission to save the world from itself.

If people threaten the Oniwabanshuu, or what remains of it, they will die.

Just like Kanryuu.

Such a mystery, they said. He was perfectly healthy when they put him -in- the jail cell. And then, for two weeks, he was just -fine-. Muttering about that Shinomori Aoshi and that Takani woman, and the damn Battousai. Pleading with the guards to make a deal for his release...

And then one chipper spring morning...

Right after a night of fierce rains...

They found that Kanryuu was no longer in possession of a head.

Such a mystery. Where would a man's head run off to all by itself? Why would Kanryuu's head leave the rest of his body alone in that locked jail cell? Tsk, tsk, tsk. A man can't do much of anything without his head.

I still have his skull, you know? I've desecrated it in just about every way imaginable.

I suppose that makes me a very bad man.

But, of all the horrible things I've done, I would have to say that is the one which I regret the least.

In the street below, there is finally some movement. Two police officers arrive on horseback, followed by a good dozen on foot and a wagon behind. Okon and Omasu were more effective than I had even hoped. A third of the police in Kyoto must be here.

They storm the front of the apothecary. Thanks to Misao's nimble fingers, they'll find exactly what they are seek. Packets of opium deftly tucked into corners and crevices. And in the back rooms, those police will discover whole laboratories of scientific equipment. Equipment which they will assume was being used to produce the opium they have found.

So much evidence.

Enough to put the Hachinisasareru out of business for a very long time.

I watch as the police drag the clerk, Nabuki, out of the building and toss him into the wagon. They'll catch several of the others, I know. But the more clever members of the Hachinisasareru will steal into secret passages. They'll jump into trapdoors, and climb into crawlspaces. The labyrinth they've constructed is massive.

Like a hive of busy little bees, one smells danger, and they all flee.

That is where we come in.

Kuro and Shiro are covering the escape route in the back of the complex. Misao is positioned at another. And me...

I jump from one rooftop to another, easily making my way to where I know Tojiro will emerge. His secret escape route leads directly into my path.

Within minutes, Kuro and Shiro snag their first prey. Thwip. Thwip. I listen to the shuriken fly. Of course, the shuriken merely serve to distract. Dodge left, dodge right, look for the attacker...

And then when you get ready to run, you fall flat on your face, having never noticed the rope someone tied around your feet.

An underhanded tactic, perhaps, but quite effective.

I glance at the trapdoor in the Hachinisasareru roof. No Tojiro yet.

Next, I hear Misao. After she's run out of kunai, she'll start kicking people in the head. Oh, sure. She's small. She may not weigh much.

But, when I think about it, I realize...neither does a bullet.

Still no Tojiro. This is taking too long. Underneath my feet, the fragile slate roof tiles crunch as I try to find the best angle. I settle on the slightly raised railing between this building and the next. To my left, I can see Kuro and Shiro at work.

They have four different men bound with rope, laying on the ground one next to another like planks of a wooden bridge. For some reason or another, the pair has decided to pass a bit of time by juggling shuriken, knives, and other assorted dangerous implements, directly above the captured men.

"Uh, oh, Kuro...don't drop that knife, you could put someone's eye out."

"My arms are getting a bit tired, Shiro. We haven't practiced in such a long time..."

The men in ropes are all squirming like worms, trying to wiggle away from the perverse circus act. Ah, if only Beshimi were here. He'd be so proud.

"Okashira!"

It's Misao's voice. I still don't see or sense Tojiro. Keeping my eye on the trapdoor, I cross the roof until I am above Misao's position. Several men, battered and bruised, lay around her in the alleyway. Moaning. There's always moaning in Misao's aftermath.

There's usually silence in mine.

Misao looks up, smiling like she's just delivered a surprise bowl of rice to Hyotokko, as bright as she looked the day Shikijo snuck her strawberries, as slyly proud as the thief Beshimi taught to steal my yukata belts, just like the innocent little girl who couldn't understand the horror behind Hannya's face burning off...

She looks up, and opens her hand. With one swift motion, she tosses the object contained within into the air. It flips over and over, dragging the leather cord behind it like a shooting star soaring through the heavens.

I reach out to pluck it from the air.

I have it. Copper and familiar, my promise, and Hannya's. My sundial.

And that's when terrible pain shoots into my neck.

Like a bee sting.

The sundial slips from my fingers and plummets back towards the ground.

"Aoshi-sama!"

I draw my kodachis as I spin around. How did he? How...

The world grows incredibly blurry. I stumble toward the figure which must be Tojiro. It laughs at me, low and sinister.

"You didn't think I would take the escape route I knew you knew about, did you? You must be more insane that I imagined."

With what remains of my rapidly draining strength, I charge the blurry figure. He easily avoids me, and I land on my face with a thud.

"Tsk, tsk, Shinomori."

"AOSHI-SAMA?!"

Misao. Run Misao.

"She's loud, isn't she?" Tojiro bends down to roughly grab my arm. He's dragging me across the rooftop. Most of me is protected by my trenchcoat, except for my left cheek, which is being sliced to bits by the sharp roof tiles. There's nothing I can do. I've bought this particular poison from Tojiro before. It isn't deadly, but the paralysis is total and quick. "Such a noisy little wench. Well, I'm sure she'll make a fine mourner at your funeral. She'll cause quite a scene for all of Kyoto to witness."

Summoning every ounce of will, I force myself to speak.

"I'll kill you."

Tojiro drops my arm. Looming over me, he says "Shut up, Shinomori."

And then he kicks me in the head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Orukei-chan?"

"Aa?"

"Lets leave here, someday, you and me. Okay?"

"What's the matter, Hannya-chan?"

"I...I just don't like it here."

"You can't run away from your problems. You have to become strong enough to defeat them."

"How long does it take to become strong enough?"

"I don't know, Hannya. I just don't know."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Shigenobu!"

"Yes?"

"Wake up!! You are in danger!"

"Wait, did you just call me -Shigenobu-?"

"Danger. Hachinisasareru. Tojiro. Poison dart. Remember?"

"I'm certain you just called me 'Shigenobu'."

"Of course. That is your name, isn't it? Shigenobu..."

I gasp for air as my eyes fly open. I need to escape. I need to run. I need to beat my head against something solid until the pain numbs itself.

Unfortunately for me, I'm tied to a chair. The room is impossibly dirty. I'm not fond of dirt. I'm not certain what it is about killers, but we just can't stand an untidy world. Himura's got that dojo to clean. Saitou's office is fastidiously neat. And you wouldn't even believe me if I told you how many times a day Seta Soujiro washes his hands.

Anyway, the room is dark and dirty. Cobwebs hang at difficult angles. A thin sheet of dust covers everything, except for a trail leading to the chair, an Aoshi-sized path bespeckled with blood. I can just make out a table in the corner opposite me. Moonlight streams in from between broken gaps in the ceiling.

There's only one word to describe this place. Falling apart. Mm. I suppose that would be -two- words.

"You just had to go and figure everything out. I never expected that, Shinomori. You're a surprising man."

The voice comes from behind me. I crane my head to peer over my shoulder. He's leaning against the wall, cleaning his glasses with the edge of an old rag. The Hachinisasareru uniforms are much thicker than the sorts the Oniwabanshuu tend to wear. Ours are designed for ease of movement. Theirs, by necessity, protect against darts and poisoned weapons with thick, winding strips of leather. If it weren't for his naked face and hands, I'd say that Tojiro's clothing makes me think of Shishio Makoto dipped in tar.

Keeping my neck turned begins to cause the pain in my head to slide down over my shoulders and back. So, I face forward once again.

"Why not kill me, Tojiro? If that is what you want? Why go through the whole cowardly charade with Okon and Omasu?"

"Don't be petulant, Shinomori." I hear a slight scraping sound. Knives? No. Something else. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. But, you're a smart man. You should have figured out by now that I gain nothing by murder."

I test my restraints. Tojiro is clever, and being a ninja, knows the varied ways a ninja might try to escape. I wonder where he's put my kodachis. They've got to be here somewhere.

The older man moves forward and places his leather gloved hand on my shoulder. "But, your suicide. Now, -that-, my dear boy, would be priceless to my clan. What a wonderful chain of events that would set into action, eh? Poor, crazy, Shinomori kills himself. Little Misao would lament your passing with such fervor, she'd probably never recover. The spirit of the Oniwabanshuu would die. Without you, or Misao, the heroes of Kyoto would be no more. And who could the city blame? No one. Well, maybe they'd blame you. But, you'd be dead, wouldn't you?"

Tojiro's plan begins to unfold in my head as he speaks. If I killed myself, there would be no clan war. Misao wouldn't gather the city behind her and demand retribution upon the Hachinisasareru, because... They would have never been involved. The Oniwabanshuu would fade into nothing, leaving a gap that the Hachinisasareru would then seek to fill. They'd become the premiere clan in the city, the protectors of Kyoto who would step up after the tragic death of Shinomori Aoshi to keep the city free of violence...

For a very small price.

"Oh yes, I've been watching you, Aoshi." I can feel his hot breath on my ear as his words spit from his lips. "Watching you talk to the voices in your head. Watching you scream at nothing, beg for reprieve from torment. Every man has demons in his past. But, knowing even as little as I do of you, I'm betting yours are more vicious than most. You were very much on the path to silencing your own troubled mind. I know you were. I should have never listened to Gouko. I should have never been so impatient."

I thrash to the side, throwing as much of my body weight into the movement as possible, in an attempt to bite the man's face. But, he moves backwards with a hiss, just out of my reach. "Impatience isn't very becoming in a ninja. Nor is blaming one's inferiors for mistakes you have made," I say.

"Ah, but Gouko was no mistake. It is amazing how vehemently he hates you. But, then, you did kill his older brothers. The Abukuma Foursome. Or, don't you remember the men you cut down in cold blood, just for spitting on the graves of your friends? Well, maybe they did deserve it, but Gouko will never see it that way. Injustice is always magnified in the eyes of a brother, is it not?"

The Abukuma Foursome. I do remember them. Some pesky little test sent by Shishio and witnessed by the Tenken. Their grand axes made them so terribly slow, I'd gutted them all before even one landed a strike. So. Even the Hachinisasareru had a hand in the Shishio Makoto affair. I shouldn't be surprised. Tojiro always did like progress and crave westernization. I wouldn't be alarmed if it were Tojiro who sold Shishio the plans for his petroleum factory.

"But, I must say, Shinomori, the most amusing accomplice in my plan came most unexpectedly. Poor little Misao, I hope she never discovers the extent of the harm she's brought you..."

My fingers dig into the wooden arms of the chair. Splinters break off and slide under my nails as I grind my teeth in silence. I don't even like it when he merely says her name. "Misao would not betray me."

"Of course she wouldn't. But, she did come to the apothecary to inquire some months ago about a tea to help calm your nerves and assist you to sleep. Tea with Misao. She brought it to you every single day at that temple of yours, didn't she? And while she rambled on and on, you drank the brew I concocted especially for you. Slowly, those drugs settled into your system, collecting in your veins and bones, driving you ever more insane. But, you struggled, you fought. And valiantly, I might add. So Gouko suggested we do something to drive you over the edge. Perhaps attack those two bumbling ninja women who run your silly little restaurant..."

Tojiro chuckles as the scraping noise continues. No, not scraping. Crushing, perhaps? Once again I turn my head to attempt to get an idea of what he is doing. But, he's moved out of my line of sight.

"The problem is," I say, "You've failed. Your clan is behind bars and the police have seized your equipment."

"Oh, no, Shinomori." Now I hear the slippery sound of liquid, "We haven't failed. There are still plenty of Hachinisasareru at our mountain headquarters. We'll set ourselves up in Kyoto once more. But, first, you will have to be so kind as to kill yourself."

"I'll pass."

"No. I don't think you will." I feel myself being pulled backwards. Pain shoots into my neck as Tojiro plunges dart after dart into my skin. Ah, so that's what he was doing back there, making the coating for these darts. "This concentrated form of the drug I put in your tea will not only accelerate your hallucinations, but has the added effect of leaving you quite prone to suggestion. By the time I'm finished with you tonight, you'll be begging me for a knife to fall upon. Maybe I'll even convince you to kill Misao and the others beforehand, just so they can keep you company in the afterworld. Won't that be nice?"

"I'd never harm any of them." The far wall is turning blue, shimmering like the sea. I blink several times in an attempt to force my vision back to normal.

"Really? That's not what I've heard." Tojiro steps in front of me, testing several of the restraints before heading towards a shadowy hole in the wall which must serve as a door. "Maybe this time you can bathe in the old man's blood. You'll like that. I'll make sure you're filled with glee. Now, Shinomori, you struggle as much as possible to help those drugs work into your system. I'll be back in a while to guide your insanity in the right direction."

I listen to the night as Tojiro's footsteps disappear. The sky, which I can make out through the missing planks of ceiling, seems to vibrate and hum. The monks used to say that everything in the world has a sound, we just aren't listening hard enough to hear it. The clouds rushing past the gaps, creating a veil between myself and the stars, they sound almost like little glass bells. Tinkling chimes fall from the sky, calling me away from my hell.

Blood rolls off my torn cheek, or is it sweat? It stings my face and drops from my chin onto my battered uniform. The occasional night breeze which slips in through the cracks plays innocently at the folds of my uniform, but sounds...

So distinctly...

Like fire.

The house of Shigenobu will fall.

I'm standing in a white field of snow. No, snow is cold. This is warm, and filmy. It is raining ash like snowflakes. For as far as I can see, there is nothing but ash, on the ground, in the sky, slowly coating my skin, everywhere.

"At first, I have to admit, I wanted you to remember. I was so filled with hate for a time. I'd been through hell, and you... How healthy and cared for...you seemed. But, I couldn't do it. By the time Misao came along, I was praying every day that you'd never..."

I turn around to find Hannya walking through the ash. It creates small clouds of dust at his feet, turning his lower legs grey. He stops only a few feet from me, still speaking as the ash swirls around us.

"...recall the name..."

He lifts his left hand to his mask and slowly pries it from his face.

"...our mother gave you..."

As the mask falls from his fingertips, I, too, am falling. Falling through a chasm, falling through the sea, falling through memories that time took from me.

"Shigenobu Hannya."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Imagine two houses right next to one another, one large, one small. The large manor resembles father, Shigenobu Taketo, a man of wealth and stature, grand and indomitable. The smaller house reminds me of mother, frail, and gentle, elegant in form and spirit. Her name sounded like the wind. Koichinuwe. But, everyone called her "Koi-nee".

A little house and a big one. Their shadows forever entwined by Fates that tend to amuse themselves with human suffering.

My mother was the beloved mistress of Shigenobu Taketo. Everyone knew. How could they not? He gave her a house right next to his own.

Even Shigenobu's wife knew. Fuyako. I only remember that she had wrinkles around her eyes. And, she tended to throw things at my head if I went into her house.

The big house...where father lived.

But, I get ahead of myself.

Fuyako had given Shigenobu two sons, and both, in time, had died. The elder, a delicate boy, had given in to fever. And the younger, a rowdy troublemaker, had taken to drinking and fighting. (The latter of which eventually precipitated his demise.) So, with no more children in the family, and Fuyako being past the age of childbirth, Shigenobu looked to the first son of his mistress to carry on his family name.

His name was Orukei.

It means, "To pick the strongest flower."

Orukei was a fine little boy. Healthy, bright, and strong. Koi-nee found herself ecstatic that he was to be adopted into the Shigenobu household. He would live a good life, and want for nothing. Eventually, perhaps, he could even help provide for the little brother and sister that, by now, would be on its way within just a few months.

Me.

But, Fuyako had other plans. She had a younger brother who had lost his wife, and wanted to adopt the brother's -legitimate- children into the Shigenobu family to carry on the estate. Oh, how she must have despised Koichinuwe, the elegant mistress which had stolen her husband's heart.

She despised my mother so, that in a fit of rage, Fuyako took a knife and slashed at Koi-nee's face, stealing her beauty in three simple strokes.

Fuyako kept after her husband, demanding that he send his mistress away. But, he replied that he would not do so. No, not while she was pregnant with his child.

Koi-nee was in despair. As soon as her second child was born, she'd be out on the streets. What chance is there in the world for a woman with a scarred face and no trade other than to charm men?

There is none.

I don't remember it, but my brother told me many times about the starless night when I was born. Even the heavenly bodies of the sky hid their faces as I came into the world. Were they afraid? Afraid of what one woman can be driven to do to protect her sons?

Jealousy is a horrible thing in the heart of a woman. How can you fight a woman of higher stature? When you have no position at all, how can you be assured that your children will be safe?

My mother called upon the female demon of retribution, that terrible spirit of a woman's heartache and longing. She named me "Hannya".

I was a demon from the day I was born.

And then, after placing her second son in the arms of the nurse, my mother swore by every demon she could name, that should her sons ever be mistreated by the Shigenobu family, she would personally rise from the dead and haunt them for all their living days.

Before she left this world, before she slid that knife into her gut, she gave her newborn son the sundial she had treasured since her days as a girl. Inscribed on that copper piece were the words she hoped would protect him from the fate which had befallen her.

"Time takes all but memories."

And time took Koichinuwe, that night I was born.

Shigenobu was horrified. And his wife cowered in the shadow of his rage. Surely if they turned out Orukei-chan and Hannya-chan onto the streets, those boys would come back someday for revenge. Not to mention the terrible threat of Koichinuwe to destroy their lives from beyond the grave. In such an unscientific age, you must understand, people remained quite worried about the fury of ghosts and spirits. Such supernatural affairs could afford no frivolous tampering.

So, Hannya-chan and Orukei-chan remained in the small house that stood in the shadow of the large manor, attended by the nurse who had brought Hannya into the world.

we grew, together. Oh, those days were comfortable ones. We played at sword-fighting with sticks, and took our dinner in the gardens. Together, we were the best of friends. Orukei-chan and I, brothers, we had each other, even if we had nothing else.

And then, one day, I came to understand that we were not particularly welcome in our own home.

There were small things, at first. Whispers so faint they seem like I must have been imagining them. "That's the whore's little demon boy," I'd overhear in the garden as I played. Fuyako's company would nod knowingly as she pointed me out. "Only four years old and he never laughs. Never smiles. Only a demon child would be like that."

"Oh yes," one of her officious little friends would say, "See how strange his eyes are. Such a terrible shade of green. They say that sea demons have eyes like that."

Four years, and already Fuyako had begun to forget my mother's warning. She'd grown courageous and bold. She schemed at every turn to make us look disrespectful and lazy in our father's eyes. When no one was around, she'd toss us around like rag dolls. Bastard children, that is what we were. And I was the foul demon boy. She'd spit at us, and kick dirt in our faces. Orukei-chan tried his hardest to protect me. He'd bandage my bruises and cuts, and sing me to sleep.

But, we were just little children. Where else could we have gone? What else could we have done?

And then, one day, our patron, our father, died when he fell from his horse. We were not allowed into the main house, not allowed to go and say our goodbyes to our father.

"No demons in the house of Shigenobu. Never again." That is what Fuyako said.

Her brother's children would inherit the large manor. And Fuyako declared that she would go to live in the small house all by herself.

As for the bastard children who lived there before, they could become servants. Strong boys such as Orukei-chan and Hannya-chan would have no problem laboring in the rice fields.

But that house, that little house, was my mother's house. It was my home, and Orukei-chan's. Our father had intended us to live there as long as we wished. I know it. It was never meant to become a home to such a cruel woman.

And so, that day, when I was only a few months shy of five years old, I did something which perhaps even the Fates never expected.

It was the first night Fuyako was to stay in the little house. I crawled out of the servant's quarters, the little shack to which Orukei-chan and I had been moved. In my threadbare yukata, I made my way through the gardens. I knew them all like the back of my hand, like every groove of my sundial.

I hated her...so much. Maybe I was a demon. Maybe, indeed, I wasn't like the other children, who smiled and enjoyed themselves, carefree and innocent. I had been born of a woman wronged. I was, just as she named me, Hannya, demon of a woman's retribution.

In each hand, I held a lamp to light the way. Orukei-chan's lamp, and my lamp. I crawled into my house. My house. My mother's house. And I slipped through hallways and corridors, through rooms and doorways, until I found Fuyako sleeping on her futon, snoring like a beast.

It isn't very hard to set a fire. You just touch a flame to dry silk, and it will light up like an inferno. And Fuyako had brought with her a great deal of silks, and expensive damasks, and gauze. I pulled them all around her futon in a circle, and just barely touched my candle to the cloth. So faint. Like a timid kiss. Like a butterfly landing on a petal.

And then I left her room. I shut her shoji and jammed it closed with a piece of wood, just like Orukei-chan and I used to do when we didn't want our nurse to bother us while we played.

I set other things on fire as I walked through the house. Everything which didn't belong there. Fuyako's giant Chinese pillows. Fuyako's books and scrolls. By the time I got to Fuyako's paintings, I could already hear her screaming.

Begging.

Moaning.

And then, all of a sudden, I felt glorious. For the first time, I smiled. I smiled as the fire grew behind me. I smiled as I walked out into the chilly night, serenaded by Fuyako's pleas for help. This was joy. This was happiness.

Finally, Fuyako knew what it meant to have a demon in the house of Shigenobu.

From behind a tree, I watched the conflagration grow. I wanted to see her dissolve into ash. I wanted to capture every single scream so I could remember them forever.

And then...I heard it. That terrible...heartbreaking...soul wrenching sound.

"Hannya-chan! Kami-sama, Hannya-chan!"

Orukei-chan.

He'd come looking for me when he'd discovered I was missing. And, of course, the first place he went to look was our old house. He rushed inside, braving the flames, searching desperately for his little brother.

By the time he stumbled out the front door, the damage was already done.

The entire right side of his face was burned beyond recognition.

And I never smiled without forcing myself to do so, ever again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Those next few weeks were a blur. Orukei-chan and I ran and ran. For a time, we sought shelter at the house of our old nurse's mother, Iyoko. She patched up Orukei as best she could.

He was in such an incredible amount of pain. At night, I could hear him, moaning softly in the bed next to mine. The palms of his hands became scarred from where he dug his fingernails into his own flesh to help forget the agony. Crying only stung his burnt flesh.

And I, I was the demon who had burned away his face.

I couldn't look at him. Not because of how torn and burnt his face had become, but because I was so ashamed. I didn't deserve to have such a brother. It wasn't right that an evil child like me should have someone care enough to run into a burning house for his sake. If it took eternity for him to forgive me, it would be too soon.

But, they were looking for us. We couldn't stay at Iyoko's house long. As soon as we could, we hitched a ride with on a farmer's cart traveling north. So, we left our town. Me, clutching my sundial, and Orukei with his burnt face covered in rags.

Orukei was only ten or eleven, I think. Such an awful burden, to be dragging your little brother towards nowhere. Where could we go? I certainly didn't know.

We came to a forest at the base of a mountain. I caught fish, and Orukei cooked them. He wouldn't let me get anywhere near fire anymore.

I tried to tell him I was sorry. I was so sorry. But, every time, it just got caught in the back of my throat. It wouldn't come out of my mouth any more than a smile would find my lips.

"Hannya," he said one day, "We can't go on like this. I've found a place where you can go. There are people there who will take care of you."

"And you, Orukei? You too?"

He looked at our smoldering campfire, his eyes permanently hardened by the fire which had taken his face. "No. I'm going to go on."

"No," I whispered, "Please, Orukei. I know I'm bad, and that you must...you must hate me. But...but...don't leave me. I don't want to be alone."

His eyes darted up from the fire and locked on mine. "I don't hate you, Hannya. You must never think that."

But, if I were him, I would hate me. "Then why?"

"I'll go out into the world and make a place for us. And then I will come back for you. We'll be together again, okay?"

Even though he said it, I didn't really believe it. Could I really blame him for wanting to get rid of me? The reminder of pain? How long did I really expect him to want to be around the boy who destroyed his life?

I should have been the one to burn in that house.

I should have been the one who lived like a dog on the streets.

I should have been the one to die by Kanryuu's guns.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He stands. The glade, that pale purple glade of four trees casts him in an otherworldly glow. In the distance, I hear the resonant tone of a temple's bell. "Lock your memories away, little brother. Lock them in your sundial, and never, ever, let them out." He turns. Is he smiling? Is he crying? I don't know. Will he ever forgive me? Does he love me anymore? Does he?

He's leaving me. I'm going to be all alone, and I deserve it

"Don't worry," he says as he disappears into the forest, "I am the demon, now."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hannya..."

Somehow the chair I was sitting in has fallen over on its side. No. Wait. My head is just tilted. I lift it to find myself in the same dirty room in which Tojiro left me.

Hannya is sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of me. He chuckles softly and pokes my knee. "This is a fine mess, now isn't it? Beshimi will laugh when I tell him you fell victim to something as simple as a poison dart."

"Hannya..." I whisper. My throat is so dry. "You're...dead."

He clicks his tongue before letting out a resounding chuckle. "Where did you learn to be so fantastically eloquent, hm?"

"I'm probably going to join you, soon."

"I'd rather you not," he replies, resting his chin on one hand. "I'd find it rather annoying, especially considering I died trying to save your life. Besides, if you make Misao sad again, I swear by our mother's grave, I will find a way to raise you from the dead and haunt you all over again."

"I don't think I have much choice in the matter."

"We'll see." Hannya sighs a bit and looks up at the patchwork sky. "It reminds me of the night you were born. The stars kept hiding. I guess the moon was too bright, those pinpricks of light didn't want to be compared to such magnificence. But that night...the night of the fire...there were so many stars. If it weren't for them, I would have never found my way. I'd misplaced my lantern, I suppose..."

"No, I took it."

"Ah, well, that explains things."

We're both very quiet for some time. I know, I know that if I don't say it now, I might never get a chance. But, how can I? The words feel as sticky as glue. But, I must. He has to know, just in case...we aren't able to meet up in the afterlife.

"Hannya. Listen to me. I'm so sorry. For the fire, and for Kanryuu. I'm sorry I failed you as your Okashira, as a friend, and as a brother. I just don't even know where to begin to try to tell you how sorry I am. I don't expect you to forgive me. I can't even fathom the pain I have caused you..."

"Aoshi."

"Hm?"

"I forgave you a long time ago. The only one who needs to forgive you...is you. It's me. I'm the one who was a bad brother. I left you. I abandoned you. Twice. Oh, how we loved you, all of us did. In the end of the day, you gave us warrior demons a home, a place to go to return to being simple men. If you had been a cruel and heartless man, we never would have learned how to live our lives as honorably and courageously as we did. It always hurt me so much not to have been able to protect you from the world. It hurt so much to leave you behind. But, you grew to be strong, you grew to be a fine man, Aoshi. I am so proud...so proud to have known you, as my leader, as my friend, and as my brother."

I may be crying. I'm not exactly sure. Something wet is rolling down my cheek, at any rate. "We're a fine lot of regrettable stains upon this Earth's crust, aren't we, Hannya?"

"Speak for yourself. The ladies adore me."

I try to chuckle, but it just comes out as a pathetic gurgle. My head lolls forward slightly. I think I may have lost some of the muscle control in my neck.

"Aoshi, about Misao..."

"Aa?"

"You know, if you talk to her, she'll listen to you."

I sigh and feel my own hot breath blown back against my face by the breeze. "I doubt I will get the chance."

"Such a defeatist attitude. I never could get you to lighten up." Hannya bends a bit to catch my eye, "You know, the world doesn't seem so bad when you smile. Even without a face, I tried it every now and again. And you, little brother, I want you to smile, too."

"Hannya...I..."

Hannya's gloved hands reach up to his mask. That carved oni mask which should have covered my face... He sets it on the ground next to his left knee, and then looks up at me.

His face...

It's all there.

All the skin is where it should be.

And he looks...so much like me. His eyes are a little deeper blue-green. His hair is a little longer. But, our faces are shaped so similarly. Same nose. Same brow.

The only thing that is really very different is that he is smiling...and I am not.

"Just say you'll try, alright?" Hannya asks as he leans forward and ruffles my hair. His touch seems to drain the unbearable pain which has been assaulting my head for hours now. "Try to smile, someday soon."

"I will, Hannya. I promise."

"Swear by your sundial?"

What else can I do? That's all he wants? I owe him so much more than that, but all he wants is for me to smile? "Yes. I do."

"Good." He stands up and brushes off his hands, "Well, it looks like it is about time for me to go."

"You're going to disappear, just like the others?"

"Nah." He turns around, "I've been disappearing all my life. I'm tired of unshinjutsu. This time, I think, I'll just use the door." He stops right before the shadowy doorway envelops him, and looks back over his shoulder, "You take care, little brother. You may not see me, but I'm keeping my eye on you."

He smiles at me.

And then he is gone.

Hannya has left me again. But, at least this time, I know, he isn't really gone. He doesn't hate me. He didn't abandon me. He's nearby, somewhere, just beyond the veil of things the human eye can see. Just like the sound of the clouds, the smell of the sky. Even though I can not perceive it, it doesn't mean it isn't there.

I take a deep breath. Tojiro's darts were supposed to make me -more- insane, but they seem to have had an effect even Tojiro didn't plan on. They made me remember.

Exhaling slowly, I wonder if now would be a good time to start meditating again. Maybe I could clear my mind enough to figure out how to get out of here.

"Pssst."

Maybe I could hold out long enough to convince Tojiro that I want to kill myself and then use the knife...

No. He'd never believe it.

"Pssst."

Maybe I could somehow use the chair to which I am tied to knock him over. And then I could jump on him with the chair legs...

"Pssst!"

What the hell is that noise? What am I hallucinating now? I look up, trying to discern the source, only to see a very familiar face peering back at me from the cracks in the roof.

"Pssst, Aoshi-sama! I'm here!"

Misao waves at me.

How did she find me? "How did you find me?"

Misao pushes some of the loose boards away to make a hole big enough to crawl through. She jumps into the room with ease, landing with the grace of a wild jaguar. "I'm not quite sure. It was very strange." Misao fumbles with the ropes and leather straps binding me to the chair, "I kept hearing Hannya's voice. It was like he was telling me where to go. Doesn't that sound crazy?"

Completely crazy, Misao. Very crazy. I'm so glad you're insane.

She gets my arms undone and leaves me to do my feet while she searches the room for my kodachis.

"Where's Tojiro-san?"

"Unknown." My feet freed, I attempt to stand up, and find the spinning of the floor makes it utterly difficult to remain balanced. "I've been drugged."

"So you have," Misao replies. She hands me my kodachis and after several attempts, I finally loop the sheath through my belt. "We better get out of here before he returns."

"Too late." Misao and I both spin around to find Tojiro holding a revolver leveled at us.

Guns.

I -hate- guns.

I hate guns, and dirty rooms, and the Hachinisasareru, and Tojiro.

Unfortunately, the only thing keeping me standing is the fact that I'm using the chair to balance.

Misao's face scrunches up. "I don't like you."

"Feeling is mutual, wench," Tojiro says as he takes several steps forward. "I really didn't want to have to kill you. But, since I have you both here, I guess I will have to improvise."

"No," Misao reiterates, "I mean I -really- don't like you."

"Whatever."

"Argh!" Misao throws up her hands in annoyance, "Why doesn't anyone ever take me seriously?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So, this is what happened.

Before you could say, "Makimachi Misao", a kunai snapped through the air and hit Tojiro directly in the eye.

Tojiro dropped his gun, and it went off, shooting Misao in the foot.

Misao screamed. Tojiro moaned. And they both fell down.

And as Tojiro clawed at his face, trying to remove the kunai that had destroyed his eye, I became a man possessed.

Perhaps literally. Neither Hannya the elder brother or Hannya the younger brother lets -anyone- get away with injuring Misao.

I'm not exactly certain how many times I stabbed Tojiro, but it could be termed, at the very least, "numerous".

Then, the world suddenly no longer spinning, and my senses clearer than they'd been in a long time, I picked up Misao. She never did weigh very much.

And before I left that place, I set it on fire.

That's what happens to people who mess with demons.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three weeks later. The Aoiya.

"Shinomori!"

"Yes?"

"Wake up! You are in danger!"

"I thought we'd gotten past this."

"Danger!"

"What sort of danger, then?"

"YOU ARE IN DANGER OF MISSING BREAKFAST!"

My eyes fly open as I am filled with incredible panic. I'm met with the sight of a tiny tongue flickering about two centimeters above my eyebrow, and the feeling of something crawling in my hair.

"Ssst. Sssst."

"Aha. Orukei-chan." I pick the snake out of my hair and sit up. "How did you get out of your cage?"

The little snake's tongue flickers at me in response.

It turns out that, in fact, Orukei-chan is -not- poisonous. He is just your normal, everyday garden-variety snake.

But, how we found -that- out is an entirely different story altogether. Though, it does involve a very amusing tale of Okina trying to suck non-existent poison out of Okon's inner thigh.

Another time, perhaps.

I place Orukei-chan back in his cage and snap it closed. Okon says that under no circumstances will there be snakes at any meal in the Aoiya, and she doesn't care if I -am- the Okashira.

I usually retaliate to such statements by threatening to send Omasu on missions up to Hiko's cabin to pick up new dinnerware for the restaurant.

Speaking of which, Okon and Omasu say they had a lovely time up at the old hermit's house after leaving the police station. The three of them spent two days waiting for a certain Hachinisasareru second-in-command to return from the mountain headquarters.

Oh, we didn't forget about Gouko. No way.

Of course, when faced with a very cross master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, Gouko didn't have much of a chance. From what I understand, Hiko Seijuro doesn't take kindly to men who choose to harm women.

After letting Okon and Omasu get their punches in, I hear that Hiko strung Gouko up in a tree. Then, Okon and Omasu treated the irascible hermit to a picnic and all the sake left in the Aoiya.

When they left, Gouko was still up in the tree. Hiko promised to take -very- good care of his new acquisition. I don't think Hiko will kill him. But, I still feel sorry for the boy, nonetheless.

Well, alright, I don't -really-.

Anyway, back to morning, to my room, and my impressive scramble to get ready.

First, get dressed.

This is harder to accomplish than you might think. First of all, I can never find my uniform these days. It isn't on the chair. In fact, I'm not sure -where- it is. Did I wear it yesterday? No, I don't think I did. Perplexing.

Fine, I'll just wear my yukata.

If I wear my yukata, there isn't really any reason to wear my kodachis. Well, it isn't like I'm going to be attacked while eating breakfast. Unless Omasu has taken to procuring vicious man-eating forms of melon, I think it will be alright.

The trenchcoat, obviously, can stay on the hook.

Well, then, all I really need, I guess, is my sundial. I pick it up off the dresser and place it around my neck.

There. Finished. No need to worry.

Second, go directly to the kitchen.

No. Wait. I'm getting those mixed up.

Second, go directly to Misao's room.

The walk down the hallway is short enough. I rap on Misao's shoji. I hope she's already awake. If she isn't then my whole morning schedule will need to be rearranged. "Misao."

"I can walk by myself! That's what the crutches are for, Aoshi-sama."

"Misao... Your wrist..." Oh. Certainly. Crutches are wonderful inventions for just about anyone -except- Makimachi Misao. She tries to walk just a bit -too- fast, gets just a bit -too- genki, and the next thing you know, -thud-. She fell off the engawa and sprained her wrist. She's a danger to herself, to the rest of us, and to pretty much anyone who pisses her off.

(I asked her, after we returned, where she had been aiming her kunai.

"The eye, of course," Misao replied with a smile, "I hardly ever miss."

I may not be the only demon living in the Aoiya.

Well, we are, after all, the Oniwabanshuu.)

"Alright, alright. Come in. I'm dressed now." I enter to find Misao on her futon, trying to put her hair into a ponytail with one hand. She can't braid it by herself with her wrist sprained. "Argh! Stupid thing. Stupid...hair. Now I know why you cut all yours off when you were younger, Aoshi-sama. Such a...bother."

"Here." I take the tie from her and do my best job of at least tying it up so it won't fall in her face while she eats.

"Thanks." She looks up at me with those sleepy Misao eyes. "You're going to let me walk, right?"

"No." Talk about -danger- in the morning.

"Fine." Misao pouts just like she did when she barely came up past my knee. "But, I, Makimachi Misao, am no invalid. Right? I won't be carried like some crippled little girl. I'm a ninja."

Yes, Misao, you are.

I take Misao's good wrist and turn around, hefting her onto my back. She's a little heavier than I remember, but she's still incredibly light. I loop her legs through my arms and stand up.

"Doorway." Misao ducks her head, leaning it against my shoulder as we walk down the hallway towards the courtyard. All the remaining Oniwabanshuu gather every morning for breakfast before starting our various work for the day. The Aoiya is as busy as ever, and I, I have a new project. Just last week I acquired an old apothecary on the other side of town at government auction. They say it used to be an opium factory, but I think I'll turn it into a book store. And yet another front for Oniwabanshuu operations, of course.

Misao and I head down the stairs. She's babbling about how excited she is about the new bookstore, and about Omasu's new kimono, and about Okina's supposedly secret trysts with the widow down the street.

We emerge into the courtyard.

I love breakfast. Being with my friends is the best part of the day.

Unfortunately, Okon is on the engawa screaming bloody murder. "Go! Go go go go!" She's slapping Shiro on the back with her hand, "There's a mouse. A mouse in the kitchen. Go catch it!"

"You're a ninja. You catch it."

Kuro scratches the top of his head. "Geez, Okon, you aren't afraid of a little mouse, are you? I mean, Omasu doesn't seem to be scared."

"Omasu doesn't believe me!"

"I don't believe you're causing such a racket."

"Please, Shiro...please..."

"Alright, lets go find that mouse before Okina comes down here and sees you making such a fuss." Shiro grabs Okon's arm and drags her into the kitchen, followed by a chuckling Kuro.

And Misao and I are, quite completely, ignored.

I'm a bit stunned for a moment. Even Misao is silent. I lift one eyebrow and look at Misao. Misao lifts an eyebrow and peers at the kitchen door.

"I don't think we're..." A surprised scream comes from the kitchen. "...going to get breakfast, Aoshi-sama."

I shrug. I guess not.

"Unless you want to wait." There's a tremendous clatter of pots and pans coming from behind the door.

"We'll wait." Breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day. And, Hyotokko would be quite upset if I didn't eat. I carefully set Misao down on the engawa. Her long thin legs dangle over the edge. I sit down next to her.

The morning sun is bright and clear, shining on our feet, though the overhang of the porch keeps our faces shaded. Okina's garden is quite relaxing, with the little fountain in the distance shimmering like too many of my hallucinations. Misao leans her head against my shoulder. I can feel how warm her cheek is, even though my yukata's sleeve. Together we watch the sky turn from dawn's golds and purples to morning's blue.

"Misao?"

"Yup?"

I chew on my lip a bit. Such personal conversation is still strange and difficult. But, it gets easier every day. Especially talking to Misao. Hannya was right. She's a surprisingly good listener.

"My uniform. It used to be on my chair every morning. Do you put it there?"

"No." Misao looks up at me with the oddest expression on her face. "You're talking about a long time ago, right? Before you left?"

I just stare at her, completely confused.

"Before you left, Hannya used to make sure your uniform was laid out every day. He said you had too much to think about to worry about such insignificant things yourself."

Did he?

Even after...

I guess he always was looking out for me, even when I didn't notice.

My hand closes around my sundial and I lift it from my neck. My fingers know every groove, every bump. I run my thumb over the raised dial, feeling the sharpness which has never dulled.

I don't know how much of my insanity was the tea, how much was keeping myself from remembering, how much was grief, and how much was anger. But, every day now, I'm learning just a bit more how to live with the demon I've always been. I'm always learning just a bit more how to, just sometimes, stop being Shinomori Aoshi, deadly demon warrior Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu, and be Shinomori Aoshi, human, friend, and simple man.

But, I don't want to become -too- simple. I might end up like Himura.

"Misao..."

"Yup?"

"I want you to have this." I press my sundial into Misao's uninjured hand. She looks down at it in surprise. "It is very important to me. It belonged to my mother."

"Really? Aoshi-sama?"

"Yes." I reach down and curl her fingers around it. "Take care of it for me."

"No," Misao says with a laugh, "I mean you -really- had a mother? I just can't imagine that! Little Aoshi-sama. I just can't imagine..."

Right now, I'm laughing. I'm actually laughing with Misao, right here on the engawa of the Aoiya. It isn't hard to do at all. It just comes over you, and there you are...laughing with your best friend in the whole world.

"Look Aoshi-sama! A butterfly!"

A little yellow butterfly flutters around the courtyard, dipping here and there, checking everything for perfection, making sure our home is as it should be. On a fine summer breeze, a little yellow butterfly swoops over the pond, circles our heads, and lands on the engawa right next to my knee.

I guess Hannya is laughing, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The End.

***Author Notes:

Phew. Long chapter. Well, Sundial is finished. What a long, strange chapter, and journey, it has been. I read on a Yahoo! group that this story is "unconventional". Well, maybe it is. I guess it isn't your typical Aoshi/Misao type romance. But, I never really billed it as a romance. People kept asking me if the pair would get together in the end. I don't think it works as well as them becoming best friends. Most good romantic relationships are built on friendships, after all.

I think the humor in this chapter is a bit more subtle. I didn't think I'd put anything funny in there, at all, until I went back and read it again, and then I found a few chuckles. A lot of angst, I suppose, but hopefully there is enough lightness to contrast.

And, of course, would it really be an Angrybee story if -someone- didn't have a missing or lost or unknown brother? Hm. I seem to use that theme quite a bit. (I suppose it is my favorite sub-plot.)

Oh, if you are interested, ChiisaiLammy has done an incredibly lovely piece of fanart for this story. A link can be found on my website, angrybee.vze.com, in the "Fanfiction extras" section. Check it out. CL's painting is filled with beautiful hues of swirling red and amazing golds, and a sundial to boot!

***Review Notes:

Thank you to everyone who followed this story, for your kind reviews and your great encouragement. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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